


Manual Now Included

by thepsychicclam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-03
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after the war, Harry and Ron are helping restore Hogwarts when they find the flying Ford Anglia and proceed to fix it up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manual Now Included

Even though it was winter, Ron was sweating underneath his sweatshirt and jacket. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and looked around. People were moving pieces of rubble with their wands to huge piles. McGonagall, along with some of the other more gifted Transfiguration witches and wizards, were turning the piles into useable stones and wood. It was a long process to get the spells just right for that much rubble. Others were casting cleaning spells to remove some of the dirt, grime, and blood that were caked all over the place. Some were casting spells to repair holes in the castle walls or piece together doors and arches.

It was exhausting work, both mentally and physically. The spells drained both brainpower and energy, so by the time someone had been casting spells for a few hours, they were beat. Ron had been alternating between moving rubble from the hall and helping break curses when found. Although the castle was drafty, the sun was shining brightly outside the windows, and the heat from the number of bodies and amount of magic made the hallway stifling.

He shrugged off his jacket and pulled his sweatshirt over his head. The air was a tad cool on the exposed skin of his arms, but he welcomed it. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes, inhaled, and let his body cool off.

“Another one,” Malfoy yelled. Ron sighed and pushed off with his foot. He joined Draco, who already had his wand ready. They were standing in front of a classroom door that was open, but hadn’t been entered. “Looks like another one of the breathing traps,” Draco explained. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, the Dark Mark visible, but fading, on his forearm. “Padma said it looked more like that kind of binding magic than any of the other curses.” He glanced over at Ron. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” They both lifted their wands in practiced synchronicity. Although Ron still wasn’t sure about Draco, because he had been a Death Eater and a huge prat as long as he’d known him, he had worked just as hard as the rest of them over the last few months trying to fix Hogwarts. Though like was a bit too strong for what Ron felt, respect was definitely there.

After a few minutes, they heard a noise that sounded like electricity crackling, then saw a puff of black smoke and felt a wave of heat. Draco called Padma over, who gave the all clear, then he stepped inside. Ron followed. The room looked pretty normal, with just a few broken panes of glass and some overturned desks. Draco waved his wand at the window, which slowly came back together, while Ron physically righted desks. Across the front were some papers beyond repair and a few trinkets that were broken. Ron flicked his wand and they all zoomed out the door to the growing piles.

“There’s going to be nothing left when we’re finished,” Ron said, staring at the room. It looked empty of personality. He never had a class in this particular room, but he could tell that any personal effects or subject-related items had been stolen, destroyed, or taken by the owner.

“They sure did a number on the castle,” Draco mused, glancing out the window. He was careful not to mention the Death Eaters around anyone. Ron didn’t blame him. Most people were still sore about that subject.

“Wanna go get some lunch?” Ron asked. Draco turned towards him and shook his head.

“No thanks, Weasley,” Draco said. The way he said Ron’s last name had a lot less derision than it had a year ago. “Think I’m gonna keep working so I can head out a bit early.”

“Kay.” Ron walked through the corridors, speaking to people as he passed. His stomach was starting to growl, and he really needed to take a break. That last bit of spell work with Draco had drained the little bit of energy that remained.

When he entered the Great Hall, he spotted small groups of people at the long tables. It was nothing like meals during school years, and it seemed a little sad. It almost felt empty and too big. The Great Hall was one of the first places they decided to repair, feeling that it was the heart of Hogwarts. Plus, it gave everyone a good place to meet and well, eat. He saw Harry sitting with Neville and Seamus in their usual place at the Gryffindor table.

The table had a decent array of food, but not the smorgasbord that used to cover the tables. Most of the house elves were still working downstairs, but they were preparing food for only a fraction of what they used to. After the Great Hall, work began on the kitchens. The group of wizards had their priorities.

“I’m completely knackered.” Ron dropped to the bench and grabbed a turkey sandwich and pumpkin juice. He downed an entire glass before refilling it and drinking another.

“Thirsty?” Harry laughed and poked at his meat pie.

“Draco and I just broke another spell on a classroom. I feel completely exhausted. How are things faring where you are?”

Neville put some jam on a piece of toast. “I spent all morning planting seeds to replace the stores we’re using up in the clean up. If we’re not careful, we’re going to run out of some of the ingredients for the potions.” Ron hadn’t seen him in a couple of weeks. He had been clearing out rooms on the second floor of the east side of the castle while Neville worked with Professor Sprout and a team trying to sort through the damage in the greenhouse. They had already doctored a slew of plants, and were still trying to work on the others.

“Justin, Oliver, and I moved these huge boulders today. We had to do it by hand after Justin lost concentration while moving one of the boulders and almost flattened Oliver. Though, I guess I can’t blame him. Hannah Abbott triggered a trap nearby that distracted us all,” Seamus said.

Ron refilled his cup, thinking of all the accidents that had occurred since the war had ended. Not just traps, just normal accidents that happen when buildings get broken, messed up, and are falling apart. Harry, Neville, Seamus, and he were only a few of a large crew trying to rebuild Hogwarts as quickly as they could. The next school year was out of the question, but the hope was to get it ready for the one after that. It had been over six months, and they had only a fraction of the castle attended. They had tried every easy clean up and repair spell known to them, but nothing yielded any tangible results. It seemed that the rebuilding process was to be something done with the hands and sweat of the survivors. The ones who remained were slowly attempting to put everything back to a semblance of the way it was before.

“How’s Hermione faring?” Neville asked.

“She’s doing okay,” Harry answered. “Ron and I got an owl a few days ago.”

“She said that the clean up from the Ministry side is almost more complicated than what we’re doing,” Ron explained. “I think she is actually enjoying herself though.” He smiled. “It seems she and Ginny are growing rather fond of London.”

“Lucky them,” Seamus said. “It must be nice to live somewhere with a nightlife.”

“And girls,” Neville added. They all laughed.

“There are girls here,” Harry pointed out.

“Yeah, but girls I’ve known my whole life.”

“You’re different now. You did behead a snake,” Ron teased. “That should count for something.”

“Maybe,” Neville mumbled into his pumpkin juice.

After Neville and Seamus returned to work, Ron finished off a tart while trying to delay going back for a little while longer. Harry sat with him, humming to himself. Ron looked up and noticed he looked absolutely giddy.

“What’s with you?” Ron felt a smile spreading across his face.

“What do you mean?”

“You look…happy.”

Harry grunted in annoyance. “Thanks, prat.”

“You know what I mean. You look positively cheerful, like overly exuberant.”

Harry grinned. “I have something to show you.”

Ron waited. “Well, okay.” He looked around. “Where is it?”

“Not here.”

“Where is it?”

“You’ll see.”

It was Ron’s turn to be annoyed. “Harry, why all the secrecy?”

Harry pushed away his dish and drummed his fingers excitedly against the table. “If you hurry up, we can go now.”

Ron swallowed a bite of food. “I’m not finished.” Harry waited, but he was almost vibrating in his seat with pent up energy. “Fine.” Ron stuffed the rest of his tart in his mouth and grabbed another from the plate. “I’m coming, but I’m bringing the rest of my dessert with me.” He poured another glass of pumpkin juice. “Here, you’re taking me one for the road.”

They walked out of the Great Hall, Ron following Harry while eating on his second tart. They walked towards the doors, then crossed the grounds. When they neared Hagrid’s hut, he saw Fang sunning himself by the door, and Hagrid taking a break in a large rocking chair. He was drinking out of an oversized tin mug. He waved as they passed. Ron was puzzled as they neared the Forbidden Forest.

“Harry,” he said, swallowing the last bit of his sweet. “I’m tired. Why are you dragging me all the way out here?”

“You’ll see.”

“You keep saying that.” He finished the glass of pumpkin juice he carried, flicked his wand at it, and it disappeared. He reached for the one Harry carried. “You drank half of it!”

“I got thirsty walking out here.” They entered the Forbidden Forest, sunlight streaking down through the trees. It was quite a bit cooler in here than it had been in the castle, and Ron wished he still had his sweatshirt.

“I’ve been working on the grounds and in the forest with Hagrid for the past week,” Harry started explaining. Ron nodded. “While I was out here this morning, I found something.” Ron stopped, and Harry turned around. “Come on!”

“Harry, one of the last times I followed you out into the forest, I almost got eaten by a large, talking,” he gulped, “ _spider_.” He shuddered at the memory. Harry crossed the space between them, grabbed Ron’s hand, and tugged him forward.

“Stop being such a baby.” Keeping hold of his hand, he led them a bit further, and Ron just knew they were going to be lost in there forever. But a few minutes later, Harry glanced back over his shoulder, eyes bright and smile wide. “Close your eyes.”

“You’re not going to feed me to an overgrown skrewt or anything are you?”

“Trust me.”

“Fine.” Ron closed his eyes and let Harry lead him. He kept waiting to trip over roots, but he managed to continue without falling. They stopped, and Ron heard something he couldn’t identify. He tensed, but Harry squeezed his hand.

“Open your eyes.”

Ron opened his eyes. Before him was the last thing he expected – the Flying Ford Anglia. It was a little worse for wear, but there it was, idling in front of him and Harry. And it actually looked _glad_ to see them.

“The car?” Ron took a tentative step forward, and the car honked its horn and the windshield wipers started moving quickly. Ron jumped back.

Harry laughed. “He’s saying hello!” Harry patted the hood and it honked again.

“I thought it was wild.”

“Well, apparently it likes me.” Harry walked towards the driver’s door and it opened automatically, the passenger door following. “Get in.”

Ron walked hesitantly forward, looking inside. The inside was covered in dirt, moss, sticks, and leaves. “I’m not getting in that. There’s no telling what’s living underneath the seats.”

“Nothing. I checked this morning. Now get in, you pussy.”

Finally, Ron stepped inside and sat on the seat. The door shut behind him and he screamed. Harry laughed, and the windshield wipers started swinging again.

“This is what you wanted to show me? Our moldy car?”

“I thought you’d be excited,” Harry said, visibly disappointed.

“I…just don’t understand.”

“Don’t you see, Ron? It’s our car. We can clean it up and it can be ours.”

“Why do we need a flying car with a personality?”

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Not to drive, idiot. Or fly, or whatever it’s supposed to do. To hang out in.” Ron still didn’t look convinced. “It could be our own little place. Away from…” Harry waved his hand towards the castle. “All that.”

Ron then understood. He studied Harry carefully. Harry looked more like his old self, the young boy with the unruly hair and bright green eyes underneath glasses askew. There was a glint in his eyes that Ron hadn’t seen since before the war. The lines that had aged Harry from the last year weren’t so apparent and he looked 18 instead of a war-worn and world-weary adult.

“Okay, I’m in.”

Harry beamed.

*

It was a couple of days before either got the time to go back to the car. When Ron walked into the clearing, Harry was lying on the hood of the car, a small patch of sunshine filtering in through the trees on top of him. His eyes were closed. He didn’t hear Ron approaching, so Ron just stood there and watched him for a few moments. Something Ron didn’t want to acknowledge crept up his spine, but he shook his head. He intentionally stepped on a stick, and Harry lifted his head.

“You’re here!” He jumped off the car as Ron finished crossing the distance between them. “I thought the first thing we could do is clean the inside.”

“Good idea. It’s disgusting.” Just then, a stream of water his Ron on the chin. “What the…” but he trailed off when he saw Harry laughing. “Don’t tell me; I hurt the car’s feelings.”

Harry shrugged. “Come on.”

The doors automatically opened, and Ron stood there, trying to figure out where to start. He glanced through the car at Harry, who was pointing his wand at stray sticks and flinging them into the forest. Ron decided that was as good a place as any to start. A couple of minutes later, Ron glanced at the dashboard. Some lights were on, letting them know the car was active, but what caught his eye was the radio.

“Hmm,” he said, laying his wand down on the floorboard. “I wonder if I can get the radio to work.”

“Haven’t tried it,” Harry said from underneath the seat. Every few seconds, straw or leaves would zoom through the air behind him.

Ron turned on the power, but nothing. He started fiddling with the controls, but nothing happened. “You might be better at this,” Ron admitted. “I’ve never operated a Muggle car radio.”

Harry sat up, a leaf and a twig sticking out of his hair. Ron reached forward and picked them out. “I don’t think this radio works the same way,” Harry said. He stood up and pointed his wand towards the floorboard of the front seat. “I’ve never worked the radio on an enchanted car. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever worked a car radio before.”

“Huh,” Ron said, puzzled. “I just assumed that you have done, you know, everything Muggle.”

“You forget,” Harry said, flicking his wand so the floorboard looked like it had been vacuumed, “I didn’t have the typical Muggle experience. Most Muggles I know didn’t live in a cupboard.” Harry smiled.

Ron started fiddling with the knobs some more, but no results. “Come on, car,” he whined. “I just want to listen to the bloody radio while I clean.” All of a sudden, the lights on the radio flashed, the knob turning. The line moved up and down the row of numbers before stopping randomly on a country station.

“No!” Harry said adamantly. The controls moved again, stopping on top 40.

“No,” Ron offered this time. Next stop, Bollywood, then classical before finally a rock station. Harry and Ron were both content, and Ron reached out awkwardly and patted the dashboard. “Thanks, this is perfect,” he said. The horn blared again.

They worked for about an hour before either one of them stopped. Neither had been singing along to the radio, and Ron realized he needed to further investigate Muggle music. He really liked it.

“I’m tired,” Ron said. He was sweating inside his hoodie, and he was filthy. Harry looked like he was faring no better.

“Okay.” Harry stood up and stretched. His shirt rode up and Ron glanced a bit of skin. He felt a rush of heat he couldn’t ignore.

“We’ve done a lot,” Ron offered, trying to divert his attention. The inside of the car looked presentable. The floors were rid of forest debris, the seats and floors vacuumed, all mold gotten rid of. Ron had even polished the dashboard and steering wheel.

“Yeah, we have.” Harry leaned on the open car door. “We’ve still got a bit of work to do. The windows, the outside…”

Ron nodded. “We’ll try to get out here as soon as we can again. It was actually fun,” he admitted.

“See, I told you.”

Later that night in their apartment, Ron was watching Harry from the kitchen doorway. Harry turned and caught him before Ron could look away.

“What?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

Ron tried to think of a lie, but decided to tell him the truth. “You look different.”

“Like, bad?”

“No,” Ron said, stepping inside the living room. He came to sit beside Harry. “That’s not what I mean. You look…happy again. You don’t look so hollow, so haunted.”

Harry sighed and stared ahead at the Muggle television they had bought when they moved into the flat. “I don’t feel as…whatever. Sad or anything like that.”

But later that night, Ron was asleep when he heard an awful screaming. He shot up and immediately grabbed his wand, pointing it around the room in the dark. The screams were coming from Harry, but as his eyes adjusted, he realized they were alone. “Lumos,” he muttered. Harry was asleep.

“Harry,” Ron yelled from his bed. Harry awoke with a start. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “Bad dream.”

“No lie.”

They both settled back down and within a few minutes, Ron had drifted back off to sleep. He was confused when he felt his covers move and someone jostle him.

“Huh?” He reached for his wand, but made contact with a hand instead.

“’S just me,” Harry whispered, crawling in bed beside him.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked, harsher than he intended. But it was the middle of the night and the second time he’d be woken up. He was confused.

“I can’t quite fall asleep again,” Harry answered. “I keep seeing…” he trailed off, but Ron knew what he was seeing.

“Kay.” Ron scooted over, making room for Harry on the small bed. Even after regular food on a regular basis, he was still small. Harry moved closer to Ron, creating contact with him wherever he could. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Ron threw an arm around Harry, pulling him closer. “No problem,” he said into Harry’s hair. He hated how perfect Harry felt in his arms like this. And at this moment, in the middle of the night, half-asleep with Harry snuggled against him, he didn’t bloody well care.

*

Three days later, they were back at the car. Rock music was blaring from the radio, and Ron was manually washing the windscreen with soap and water.

“Why can’t I just use my wand?” Ron complained. He was getting soaked, and his arm was tired. Harry was washing a window.

“It gets cleaner this way.”

“Bollocks.”

“Okay, fine. I thought it would be better, you know, to make it feel like we accomplished something.”

“I’d feel very well accomplished if I cleaned it with a spell.”

“Stop your whining and scrub. You know, Wax on, Wax off.” Harry grinned at Ron through the glass.

“Hey, I get that reference.”

“That’s because you make us watch that movie whenever it’s on TV.”

“What can I say? I’m fascinated by ninjas.”

Half an hour later, Ron stepped back and admired his work. “Windscreen is complete!”

Harry joined him from the back of the car where he was finishing up the last window. “Looks brand new.” He clapped Ron on the back. “Almost finished with this window, then we can take a break.”

“Are we going to stay out here all day?” Ron asked, climbing up on the hood and sitting down.

“They’ve got plenty of people up at the castle,” Harry murmured from the back end of the car. “They can live without us for a bit.”

“Accio snack,” Ron said, flipping his wand. A bag came flying towards him from his pack inside the car. He pulled a cookie from inside the bag and nibbled contently. The sun was shining through the trees, giving him just enough warmth that now that he was resting made it comfortable there. He took a deep breath and lay back against the hood. He put one hand behind his head and stared up at the sky.

“You look comfortable.” Harry crawled up on the hood and lay down beside him.

“I am. It’s so peaceful out here. Even if it is the Forbidden Forest. Right now, it’s hard to imagine anything scary or bad living out here.”

“I know. It’s so quiet. That’s why I love it out here. Nobody is around.”

Ron looked over at his friend, profile bright in the sun. “Is it really that bad?”

“Sometimes,” Harry answered.

“You seem so…well-adjusted. Like everything is okay.”

“It is okay, most of the time. I won. I defeated the bad guy. I saved everybody. Well, almost everybody,” he said, voice quieter.

“You can’t get over that, can you?”

“No.” Harry sighed. “I can’t accept that they’re all dead. Lupin, Tonks, Colin, Hedwig….” He trailed off, and Ron felt the familiar tightening in his chest.

“Fred,” he whispered.

“Fred,” Harry repeated. They were quiet a moment, and the familiar sadness engulfed Ron like a wave. “I feel like it’s my fault,” Harry continued, “like if I’d been quicker or cleverer or stronger, they’d still be alive. It’s still hard to look your mother in the face. I know she doesn’t blame me, but I blame me.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ron said for the hundredth time. He had told Harry that so much after the war that the words started to sound hollow, and they were as automatic now as breathing.

“I dreamed about them the other night,” Harry confessed.

“I figured.”

“People think it’s Voldemort that I see, that he is what scares me. But it’s not.” Harry shook his head. “It’s the faces I see. I dreamed that I was showing Lupin the car, and he burst into flames in front of me, and I did nothing but cry. Then I ran to get help and tripped over Tonks and Mad Eye. Then Fred’s corpse was following me like a zombie. It sounds ridiculous, but it was awful.”

Ron remained quiet, but reached over and patted Harry’s arm. Harry twisted his arm until they were holding hands.

“This isn’t natural,” Harry said.

“I’m pretty sure dreams like that are natural.”

“No, I mean this.” He held up their hands so they could both see them. Their fingers were intertwined, the shadows from the branches overhead dancing across their skin.

“We’re friends. Best friends.”

“Seamus and Dean don’t do this.”

Ron started to feel that uncomfortable heat creeping up his spine. “We’re different. We’ve been through too much together to be normal.” Ron started swinging their arms back and forth, creating an arc through the air above them.

Suddenly, Harry rolled to his side, crushing their hands between their bodies, and kissed Ron. Ron was so shocked he just sat there, mouth frozen. Harry pulled back, look of shame on his face.

“Shit, Ron. I’m sorry, I – “ but Ron grabbed the back of Harry’s head with his free hand and pressed their mouths together again. This time he responded eagerly, lips moving against Harry’s, parting as Harry’s tongue swiped across them. His hand started to go to sleep between their bodies, but he didn’t care. He lost his fingers in Harry’s messy hair and pulled him closer, wrapping his legs around Harry’s.

When Harry pulled away, his glasses were sideways, and Ron reached up to fix them. He smiled, and Harry grinned and looked relieved.

“What?” Ron asked.

“I thought you might punch me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I just kissed you.”

“I’m quite aware of that.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“I really didn’t mind. I thought I made that pretty clear.”

Harry studied him, traced a finger from his forehead down his cheek. “Is this going to make things weird between us?”

“I hope not.”

“Zero weirdness?”

“Zero weirdness,” Ron agreed. Harry kissed him again, quick and chaste, before crawling off of Ron and going back to the windows.

Ron rolled over and watched him.

*

“Let’s go out tonight,” Ron said. Harry was in his usual spot on the couch, watching TV. “You need to do something other than watch TV.”

“I go to work.”

“That doesn’t count. You need some fun. Something that doesn’t remind you of everything. Take your mind off everything. I’ve already sent an owl to Seamus, Dean, and Neville, and they’re meeting us at the pub in an hour. So, go take a shower!”

Harry remained on the couch, staring at the television. “These _Top Gear_ cars have nothing on our car.”

“That’s great. Now get up.”

“Do I have to?” Harry whined. Ron grabbed his hand and pulled him off the couch.

“Yes. Now go.”

As he dressed, he was surprised by how relieved he felt to be going out. He had had enough of the depressing box they called a flat, and he needed a firewhiskey. And he was damned if he was going to leave Harry in front of the television for yet another evening. When Harry got out of the shower, he threw a (mostly) clean t-shirt at him, slipped into one himself, and walked down the street to the closest pub.

The closest pub was a wizarding pub, full of wizards and witches who knew their faces (yes, his too), and it was almost impossible to squeeze into the corner booth with Seamus, Dean, and Neville without being mauled by everyone.

“Fuck,” Ron muttered when he finally slid in the booth, Harry sliding in after him. He nodded hello to the others before taking a long drag from his glass. He coughed from the burning sensation as it slid down into his body and throughout his limbs.

“Doing all right?” Dean asked. Dean joined them every so often at a pub, checking on the state of things. After everything settled down, he rejoined the Muggle world, and Ron honestly didn’t blame him. Quite a few Muggle-borns, and even some pure bloods, decided that they had seen enough of everything and entered into a different lifestyle.

Ron nodded. “Guess so.”

“How’s the clean up going?”

“Slow,” Harry said. “I don’t think I ever realized how big Hogwarts was until we all started the cleaning and rebuilding one section at a time.”

“I thought someone was going to get blown to bits today when a trigger spell was set off after opening a classroom door.” Seamus shook his head and ran his fingers through the condensation on the side of his glass.

“So Dean, found any hot muggle chick yet?” Ron asked. He waggled his eyebrows as he lifted his drink to his lips.

“Nah,” he said. “I’m playing the field.”

“That difficult, huh?” Harry punched Dean playfully.

“I don’t see you lot swimming in women.”

“Wish I was,” Neville muttered.

“Mmmwomen,” Seamus said dreamily. “I need to get laid. Maybe I should give Lavender a call. She’s usually good for a quick shag.”

“So, what’s with you two and Hermione and Ginny now that they’re in London? Is the long-distance thing faring well?” Dean asked.

Ron didn’t quite know what to say. He felt slightly guilty, not eight hours ago kissing Harry.

“Ginny and I are taking a break. Too much going on. We decided to try to give things a try later.”

“I thought you two were pretty tight after the war.”

“We were, but there was so much we both needed to do. Finding time seemed impossible, especially with her moving to London with Hermione.”

“What about you?” Dean asked Ron.

“You know Hermione. Business first, personal later. She’s got her eyes on too many things in the Ministry and aftermath of all this to deal with any relationship. I guess we’re like what Harry said: on a break.”

“Sucks, mate,” Dean said, lifting his beer mug. “To shite love lives.”

“Here, here!” They all said, clanking together drinks and downing them.

“Merlin’s beard! It’s Harry Potter.” They all turned to the voice as they heard a gasp from a second person.

“And that Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom!” Two middle-aged wizards were standing in front of their booth, grinning at them brightly. The boys nodded, all shifting uncomfortably.

“Great service you did for the wizarding world,” the first one said.

“For the whole world, Herb,” the second said.

“Thanks,” Neville said, face burning.

“Hard to imagine a fight like that,” Herb said.

“Those muggle soldiers haven’t seen anything like that, I’m sure,” the other said. “And at your age. The lot of you are nothing but boys! Tell me, what was it like right in the action at Hogwarts?”

“Um…” Neville said uneasily.

“When I was your age, I was playing Quidditch every day and chasing all the girls.” Herb laughed, pleased with his memory.

“Hard to play Quidditch when all your friends are dying and Voldemort is at your back,” Harry said. Ron placed a hand on his arm underneath the table, squeezing slightly. He could feel Harry’s quickened heartbeat underneath his fingertips.

The men cringed at the name. “I know, lad. Can’t imagine You –Know-Who – “

“Can’t imagine what?” Harry’s voice was increasing in volume, people at the bar starting to turn and stare. “Can’t imagine what it’s like to see someone you love lying dead beside you from the killing curse? Can’t imagine having Voldemort –“ they cringed again, “pointing his wand in your face, wanting you to die.” Harry stood up as Ron grabbed his hand. He tugged him back, but Harry ignored it and took a step forward, pulling free of Ron’s grasp. “Can’t imagine looking into Voldemort’s red eyes and having them stare back into yours so deep that the red permeates your vision even after you close your eyes?”

The two men were clearly taken aback, unsure of what to do. A few spectators had gathered around. A wizard slightly older than they were stepped beside Harry and leaned close.

“Harry, maybe you should sit back down.”

Harry turned his gaze towards the man then. “Don’t call me Harry like you know who the fuck I am.” He pushed the man and Ron and Neville were immediately grabbing Harry’s arms and pulling him away, Dean and Seamus apologizing to the crowd. A few steps away, Harry twisted around in their grip and yelled, “And say Voldemort’s name you spineless fucks.”

The last thing Ron heard as they left the pub was murmurs of “messed up from the war” and “must be so tough for him.” He was really glad Harry hadn’t heard that part.

“Get off me,” Harry mumbled, shaking Neville and Ron off. He stalked a few steps, then turned around to face his friends. They stared at him, mixture of worry, anxiety, fury, and sadness.

“Fuck!” Harry shouted towards the sky. “I hate them. I hate all that bollocks. The people who think they know, or want to know, who want you to relive it over and over again.”

“It’s their way of dealing,” Neville said calmly.

“Do they have to include me?” he asked, voice strained. His shoulders sagged as his ire waned, and he dropped to the curb. The others came to sit beside him. Ron put a hand on Harry’s thigh, squeezing it slightly.

“No,” Seamus said. “They’re just ignorant.”

Harry sighed, leaned a head on Dean’s shoulder. Seamus pulled out a pack of cigarettes on the other side of Dean. He offered them around, but everyone refused. He shrugged, put the butt between his lips, and muttered a spell. The tip ignited and he inhaled gratefully.

“You’d think by now things would be different,” Neville said. He kicked a stone with the tip of his shoe and it went across the street.

“Shit sucks,” Seamus said. He exhaled and the smoke took the shape of a dragon. “I think we’re all fucked.”

“Really uplifting, Seamus. Want to cheer us up some more, mate?” Ron rolled his eyes.

“I’m being real, Ron. It does suck.”

“It’s not going to suck forever,” Neville declared. “It’s better now.” He glanced at Harry. “Most days.”

“I’m fine, guys.” Harry stood up and paced in front of them. “I just hate it when they do that. Ask questions. Act like they know.” He gave a cruel laugh. “They can’t even say his name. He’s dead and they still hold to their silly superstitions like a bunch of ignorant fools.”

“Give them time,” Neville said. “Before long, no one will remember me or Ron, then you.”

Harry turned and looked down at his friends. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Dean asked.

“For losing it back there.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I just – “

“You don’t have to explain it to us, mate,” Ron said.

“We understand.” Neville smiled.

“I kinda wish Ron and Neville would have let you punch that guy.” Seamus blew another stream of smoke, this one changing from blue-grey to green then fuchsia. “I haven’t seen a good bar fight in awhile.”

Ron stared at him. “You’re incredible, do you know that? Last thing we need is for Harry to get into a bar fight and it make it into the papers.”

Harry sat back down on the curb. “I ruined our night out, Ron.” He laughed half-heartedly. “Sorry.”

“No worries,” Ron said. “Pub will be there tomorrow night…though perhaps a different pub.”

“Who said the night is ruined?” Seamus pulled a flask and a plastic bag out of his pocket. “Pick your poison.”

“What do you have?”

“Firewhiskey, and a special herbal mixture that I got from some guy I knew from Ravenclaw a few years ago who was rather adept at Potions. Last few years, he has been making a living selling this stuff.”

“A drug dealer?” Neville asked, staring open-mouthed at Seamus.

Seamus waved his hand, handed the flask to Dean, then reached inside the bag. He pulled out a small object that looked like a cigarette except that it was in blue paper and the stuff inside was an orange color. “Better than any Muggle drug you’ll ever get. One puff and you’re high, and no aftereffects. Only drawback is that it’s bloody expensive and almost impossible to make.” He extended his arm, the small roll in the middle of his palm. “Harry?”

Harry picked it up and put it between his lips as Seamus muttered a spell. The tip ignited and Harry puffed, coughing as he exhaled. Seamus laughed as Ron took it and did the same thing. Neville passed, but Dean and Seamus also took a puff. After a few minutes, Ron was feeling giddy and light-headed, and everything was funny.

They spent the rest of the night walking through the streets of the small town, hanging off light posts, and levitating random objects. Dean and Neville started pelting trash at Harry and Ron while Seamus urinated on a mailbox. Harry serenaded a group of older witches with his rendition of ABBA’s _Mamma Mia_. At one point, Seamus tried to _wingardium leviosa_ a phone booth, and they all laughed as they kept shouting “explode! Explode!” at it.

When they finally returned to the flat, Ron and Harry collapsed on their beds on opposite sides of the small room. They were still laughing.

“All right, Harry?” Ron asked as he settled down. The mirth was subsiding, but he felt calm and content.

“Okay.” He heard Harry kick off his shoes in the dark. Then he heard clothes hit the floor and Harry try to situate himself underneath the covers. Ron thought about doing the same thing, but he couldn’t be bothered yet. “I’m sorry about tonight, Ron.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ron said. He closed his eyes.

“No, I’m not that guy. The one that curses out random people because they say the wrong thing.”

“I guess you have an excuse to be that guy occasionally,” Ron said.

“Doesn’t make me feel any better about what I did though.”

“Then write then a bloody apology letter then.” That sent both guys off into a fit of laughter, and before Ron knew it, he was asleep.

*

The next day, Harry had been scrubbing the same spot on the car door when Ron finally stood up and threw his rag down.

“That’s it.” He glared down at Harry, who looked at him innocently. “What gives?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The fact that you’re about to rub a whole through the car’s door. What is going on?”

“Nothing. I’m just…thorough.”

“My arse.” Ron opened the passenger side door and pointed. “Get in.” Harry complied, crawling onto the front seat, Ron behind him. The car rolled down the windows without Ron having to tell it. Ron turned around on his knees and leaned over the back of the seat. He grabbed his pack and rifled inside, finally bringing out a bottle of liquor. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Something Charlie brought me from Romania, or Slovenia, or one of those countries over there. It’s really good, but really strong. Something tells me you could use a stiff drink.”

“I’m not sure that is a good idea,” Harry said. “That got me in trouble last night.”

“You are honestly not still upset about that scene at the pub?” Ron twisted the cap from the bottle and inhaled. Cinnamon and a hint of something stronger. He took a quick swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he handed the bottle to Harry. Relenting, Harry took a tentative swig.

“I’m just really mad.”

“Whatever. Those guys were dicks.”

“No, not just at those guys. At them, myself, the whole fucking world!” He punched the dashboard, and the car honked.

“Okay.” Ron stared out of the windscreen at the clearing. He could already feel the alcohol in his veins.

“Aren’t you mad?” Harry turned on him, anger radiating from his body. “Aren’t you entirely pissed that all this even happened? You’re fucking brother died, for Merlin’s sake! And now we’re stuck here every goddamn day cleaning up their messes. I’ve been cleaning up their messes since I was eleven, and I’m fucking tired of it!”

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” Ron shouted back. He was getting angry now, and he wasn’t even sure why. “No matter how fucking mad I get, nothing will bring Fred back. Do you think you’re the only fucking one that has to deal with this shit? You don’t have to go home to a family who is still mourning the loss of one son even though the other six children made it out alive. You haven’t listened to George cry all night or wake up screaming for Fred. Come to think of it, you haven’t had to wake up night after night when you wake up screaming and rambling.” Ron opened the door to get out, but turned around. “We’re all fucking dealing with shit. But not all of us want to wallow in it. Some of us want to move on.”

He stepped out of the car, but Harry grabbed his arm and yanked him back in. “Don’t fucking walk away from me in the middle of an argument.”

“Why the hell not?”

Harry punched Ron in the arm. “Because I fucking said so!”

“Don’t punch me!” Ron shoved him, and then Harry shoved Ron back, and before they knew it, they were pushing each other as they slammed their mouths together. Harry sat up on his knees, leaning over Ron, his fingers digging into Ron’s arms roughly. Ron leaned against the door, the window knob and doorjamb digging into his back. Harry pressed his mouth so hard against Ron’s that it was all teeth and flesh, his tongue delving into his mouth demanding and dominating, Ron’s lips throbbing but wanting more.

Ron’s legs slid open as Harry situated himself between them, his hand yanking at the fly of Ron’s jeans. Ron rocked into his hand, his fingers clawing at Harry’s back. Harry’s fingers gripped Ron’s hard cock, pumping it fiercely. Ron felt slightly uncomfortable at the dry contact, but he just wanted Harry to touch him so badly that he didn’t care if it hurt. Ron bit Harry’s lip, causing Harry to moan and buck against him, and Ron slipped his hands in between their bodies. He fumbled with the clasp of Harry’s trousers, trying to work them while his entire concentration was focused on his cock and Harry’s hand around it. He finally managed to get his hand around Harry, hot and heavy in his hand, and moved it as best as he could from his angle.

It was awkward, frantic, and desperate. They pushed and shoved, bit and scratched, taking out their frustrations on each other. Ron bit Harry’s collarbone so hard he was bleeding, and Harry pushed his fingers into Ron’s flesh so hard that Ron knew he was going to be bruised later.

When Harry came, he held onto Ron harder than he expected. He collapsed on top of Ron, barely moving his hand as Ron came. He left his hand inside Ron’s trousers, and Ron couldn’t be bothered to move his either. They lay on the seat together, Harry a welcomed weight on top of him. With his free hand, Ron ran his fingers through Harry’s sweaty hair.

“This was unexpected,” Harry finally said, voice slightly hoarse.

“I definitely didn’t expect to get a hand job today, if that’s what you meant.” Harry laughed, and Ron could feel it vibrating through his chest.

“Part of it. The outburst, the aftermath.” Harry rose up, slipped his hand from Ron’s cock and braced himself on his elbows. Ron retrieved his hand as well. “What the bloody hell was in that liquor Charlie gave you?”

Ron laughed. “I don’t know.”

“I told you that me drinking was a bad idea.”

“Hmm.” Ron arched his hips against Harry’s. “I’m not sure I completely agree.”

“Ron, what are we doing?”

“Well, right now we are lying in the car, enjoying a post-orgasmic moment.”

“You know what I mean.” Harry shoved him again, and Ron winced. “Shit, sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Ron shook his head. “I’m fine.” He traced his fingers over the mark he left on Harry’s neck. “I guess we both kinda lost it, huh?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“For what?”

“I guess I’m technically cheating on your sister.”

“Hmm…I hadn’t thought about it that way. I guess I’m technically cheating on your best friend.”

“We’re swine.”

Ron brushed a few errant strands of hair from Harry’s eyes. “Are you okay? I mean, with everything?”

“Yeah. Sometimes, it’s just harder to handle than others. It’s like, everyone is looking at me and expecting me to either go into some crazed post-traumatic rage or be happy and completely adjusted. I sometimes feel like I can’t be where I actually am, which is somewhere in the middle.”

Ron reached up and kissed Harry’s swollen lips. “I’m not mad at you. For anything.”

“Good. You and Hermione are the only two people on the planet I really give a damn about. If everyone else hated me, I think I’d be okay if I had you two.”

“I feel the same way.”

Harry laid his head on Ron’s chest, and Ron tightened his arms around him. He wasn’t quite sure where any of this was going, but he realized it couldn’t be any worse than what they had been through.

*

A couple of days later, they were sitting in the backseat of the car, playing wizard’s chess and eating crisps when Ron shifted uncomfortably.

“So…Ginny’s coming home with Hermione. And Mom invited us over for dinner. Both of us.”

Harry stared at his pieces. He didn’t answer for a few minutes. “Okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Can I really say no? I think I’ve avoided everyone long enough.”

“What about Ginny? And Hermione?”

Harry rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll figure it out.”

Ron wasn’t happy with that, but it seemed to be the end of the discussion. So when the two of them apparated to the Burrow a few nights later, he couldn’t stop the increasing dread.

As soon as the two of them appeared, Molly threw open the door. “My boys!” she cried, running towards them. She pulled them both into a single hug, almost squishing Harry’s head.

“Mom!” Ron shouted, trying to shake her off as he tried to hide the smile he felt.

“I’m just so happy to see you two.” She kissed Ron, then Harry. “Come on in. Everyone’s waiting. I made a huge dinner, and Harry, you look just as skinny as you usually do. Ron, have you not been making sure he eats?”

“Geez, Mum. We just got here. Lay off the accusations until we cross the threshold.”

Inside, Authur was sitting at the dinner table, a Muggle dustbuster apart in front of him. Ginny and Hermione were at the table, too, along with Percy, and they seemed to be in some sort of heated debate. They stopped arguing when they heard footsteps.

“Ron! Harry!” Hermione squeaked, jumping up and throwing herself into their open arms. They each laid a kiss on opposite cheeks, and she kissed them in turn. “I’m so happy to see you. I’ve missed you so.”

“Hey you two,” Ginny said from behind them. Ron stepped around Hermione and pulled Ginny into a hug. They hugged for longer than Ron intended, and he realized how much he had missed his sister. “And you,” she said, looking at Harry. “I’ve missed you.” She reached up on tiptoes and kissed him, and Ron tried not to feel jealous. Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“Hey Percy,” Ron said. “Dad.” Arthur came over and hugged them both, and Percy shook their hands. Ron didn’t see George, so he walked over to Molly and asked her about it in a whisper.

“He’s upstairs,” she whispered back. “Go up and get him. It might do him good to see you.” She looked sad, and Ron felt a heavy weight descend upon him. Leaving Harry in the kitchen with Molly, who was fussing over him and trying to gauge just how skinny he was, he headed upstairs to the twins’ – George’s – room. He knocked, and then entered. George was on his bed, playing a video game.

“I bet Dad went nuts when you bought that, huh?” Ron said. George paused the game and smiled up at him. Ron tried not to look shocked at his brother’s appearance. George was bone thin with dark circles underneath his eyes.

“Yeah. He wanted to take it apart, but I wouldn’t let him.” He tossed the controller down and Ron sat on the bed beside him.

“How are you?”

He shrugged. “I’m okay.”

“Really?”

“No, but it helps Mum sleep at night if I say it.”

“Have you gone back to work yet?”

“Yeah, about a month ago. Lee had been running the store for me, and I’ve been going every day. Business is insane. It’s full almost every day. Diagon Alley looks like it used to again.”

“Yeah, Harry and I were down there a few months ago and stopped by. We talked to Lee for a bit.”

“I’ve been working on a few gags that we came up with before the war. I haven’t quite perfected them yet. I’m missing something.”

Ron bit his lip to keep himself from crying.

“Harry’s downstairs. And I think dinner’s almost done.” He stood up. “Come on.”

“Okay.” George looked around, lost, then followed Ron.

Dinner was a mixed affair of joy at seeing each other and sadness. There was much to catch up on – Arthur, Hermione, Ginny, and Percy discussing London and the Ministry, Ron and Harry Hogwarts, Molly filling everyone in on news of Charlie, Bill, Fleur, and Teddy – but throughout the whole meal, George kept quiet. He said maybe three words.

After dinner, Ron stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. He walked toward the orchard, where he’d played Quidditch with Fred and George countless times, and sat down as he grieved for his brother. A little bit later, he heard footsteps and then saw Harry drop to the grass beside him.

“Wondered where you ran off to.”

“I needed a moment.”

“I understand.” Harry reached beside him and took Ron’s hand, threading their fingers together. “George will be okay.”

“I know. But I worry about him. And I miss him and Fred so much.” Ron looked around the orchard. He pointed to a tree across from them. “See that tree? Fred turned a gnome into a chicken over there one time. And down there by the shed, I fell off a broom playing Quidditch and broke my hand. Fred and George decided that they could mend the broken arm because they had read one of Charlie’s school books, but all they did was end up beating it with Mom’s wand while I wailed in pain.” Ron laughed despite himself. “We spent a lot of time out here.” Harry laid his head on Ron’s shoulder and remained silent.

“I figured this would happen,” Hermione said quietly behind them. They jumped apart like they had been shot. She shook her head and smiled. “No.” She came to sit down on the other side of Ron, taking his hand hers. “I don’t mind, you know.” She waited until Harry took Ron’s hand again. “You two are my boys, and you’ll always be. I don’t mind sharing you.” She turned and kissed them both lightly on the lips. “I don’t know about Ginny though.”

“This isn’t…” Harry started.

“We’re not sure what is going on,” Ron admitted. Hermione smiled.

“I just want my two boys to be happy. Things are still so messed up.” She sighed. “Poor George.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Ron asked.

She thought about it, then slowly nodded. “I think so. Fred was the equivalent of one of us. It would take us forever.” She squeezed Ron’s hand. “I really miss you two. And Hogwarts.”

“We miss you, too,” Harry said.

“Yep. Every night, you miss the greatest hits of Harry on the couch, watching Muggle reality TV while chugging coffee.”

“And every weekend is the _Karate Kid_ viewing.” They all laughed.

“This is depressing,” Ron finally said.

Hermione giggled. “Yeah, it kind of is.”

“Let’s play Quidditch.”

“Really?” Harry perked up. “I haven’t played Quidditch in…forever.” He looked excited, but then he stared at Ron cautiously. “Are you sure you can handle it? We haven’t played Quidditch without Fred.”

Ron glanced over at the shed and smiled. “I think he’d want us to play. Fred would never want anyone to stop playing Quidditch.” He jumped up. “You two get the equipment out of the shed and I’ll go get Ginny and George.” He turned and ran back to the house, returning a few minutes later. It had taken a little persuading to get George to join them, but he finally acquiesced. Surprising them all, Percy joined them, too.

Harry, Ginny, and Percy played against George, Ron, and Hermione. They flew through the air, Ron and Percy playing keeper, the rest playing a mixture of chaser and beater with Harry and George acting as seekers. Percy got mad when George hit him with a bludger and was so preoccupied with yelling at him that Hermione scored a goal. Harry, Ron, and George tried to see who could do the most damage to each other with a bludger while Hermione and Ginny cheered on their respective teams. The snitch showed itself twice, Harry and George both racing towards it, but neither caught it until the third time. Harry descended to the ground, proudly holding the snitch.

“I call cheat,” George yelled.

“You can’t call cheat after two hours,” Ginny yelled back.

“Harry is the best seeker, so we have an unfair advantage. We should get a handicap.”

“My arse,” Harry yelled, still waving the snitch around.

“You did get a handicap,” Percy shouted. “They had to play with me.” He laughed, and everyone turned and gaped at him in shock.

“You actually made a joke,” Ron said, amazed.

“It has been known to happen from time to time,” Percy answered.

“Rematch?” George asked. Everyone looked at each other eagerly. Ron shared a look with Harry and Hermione. They grinned at him.

“Hell yeah,” Ron said. “Harry, stop showing off and get your ass up here.”

They stayed outside, playing Quidditch until the sun started coming up.

*

Ron got to the car first, which was unusual. Harry was always the first to arrive; Ron had decided that Harry had developed some sort of unnatural attachment to the piece of metal.

When he walked into the clearing, the car flashed its lights. Ron patted the hood affectionately, then the car opened the passenger side door, rolled down the windows, and turned the radio to their favorite station. Ron crawled in, closed the door behind him, and stretched out. He glanced up at the sky through the open window, overcast and grey. It was a frigid day, and Ron had on an extra layer of clothes underneath. He closed his eyes and hummed to himself, waiting for Harry. A few minutes later, he heard a noise and opened his eyes. All he could see was a very large mass of black hair and green eyes.

“Dude, don’t sneak up on me.”

“I didn’t expect you to be here.” Harry went around to the other side of the car and got in while Ron sat up, pulling his legs under him. “You looked very happy sitting there.”

“I am. I’m just so happy about George. Obviously, he’s still got a long way to go, but he played Quidditch with us all night! And he laughed. And talked. He almost seemed like his old self.” Ron smiled. “It’s weird, though, because it’s bittersweet.”

“Makes you miss Fred, doesn’t it?” Ron nodded, silent. Harry crawled over, situated himself between Ron’s legs, head to chest. “I’m happy about George, too. And I’m happy you’re happy.”

Ron kissed the top of his head. “What about you? Are you happy?”

“I’m very much content.”

“But are you happy?”

“I don’t know.”

“You haven’t had a nightmare in awhile,” Ron pointed out. “That is progress.”

“I guess. I haven’t been dreaming as much.”

“That’s good.” They lay there for awhile, listening to the radio as the cool air drifted around them. Eventually, a few drops landed on the windscreen, then a light patter of rain descended, and the car rolled up the windows. Then it started pouring, rain pelting loudly against the windows, obscuring any vision outside the car.

“Dammit,” Harry muttered.

“Guess we won’t be getting back any time soon, because I’m definitely not walking out in that.”

“There’s no telling what would happen if we tried to navigate in this. We’d fall into a rabbit hole and end up in Hagrid’s idea of Wonderland.”

“Which is my idea of hell.” They laughed.

“Oh well, I guess we could pass the time some other way,” Harry suggested. He scooted up and craned his neck so he could kiss Ron. Lowering his face, Ron touched his lips to Harry’s. The kiss was soft, slow, no urgency or unnecessary pressure. They moved their mouths in rhythm, parting lips so tongues could swipe and explore.

Without breaking the kiss, Harry maneuvered himself so he was straddling Ron, facing him. Ron explored Harry’s mouth slowly, his tongue charting every curve, crevice, sharp point, and soft spot. He wanted to learn as much about Harry’s mouth as he could, and he felt like he had cheated himself the other two times by not taking the time to enjoy this. His fingers brushed against Harry’s cheeks, over the frame of his glasses, then mapped the contours of his ear and neck. Harry was doing something similar in Ron’s hair and across his chest, his hands sliding down the front of his t-shirt and then curling around his biceps.

Ron moved away from Harry’s mouth, kissing across his cheek, under his jaw, behind his ear, his neck. He could feel Harry swallow under his tongue, then felt him laugh against his lips. Ron pulled away and looked at Harry quizzically, small smile on his lips.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just realized we are necking in a car.”

“We’re what?”

Harry laughed again. “Making out in a car. It’s a Muggle thing. People go park their cars places, then they sit in them and make out. Dudley got in trouble for it one time because the police caught him and the girl and called both their parents. Apparently though, it’s very common for young people to do it.”

“That’s unbelievable.”

“I don’t think so. It’s just not familiar to us because we don’t drive cars. Plus, necking on a broom would be difficult.”

“No, not that. I mean, it’s unbelievable that Dudley managed to get some girl to kiss him.” They both burst out laughing.

Ron turned and looked out the windows as Harry toyed with the hair at the base of his neck. The rain was still descending in sheets. There was a laziness about the day, a calm enjoyment that Ron hadn’t thought possible between them. He could feel Harry’s half-hard cock against his own, and he wanted Harry, wanted to kiss him again, but he was enjoying the warm weight of Harry in his lap almost as much as kissing him.

“You’re smiling again. Tell me why.”

“Do you know that you’re nosy?” Ron tore his eyes from the pouring rain and smiled at Harry. Harry looked like a kid, cheeks rosy and eyes bright.

“I just like knowing what makes you smile like that.”

“You do it, too,” Ron pointed out. “Sometimes, you stare off into space, and I can tell what you’re thinking by your face. Most of the time, you look sad or scared. Occasionally, you’re smiling.” Ron tilted his head, studying his face. “What makes you smile like that?”

Harry blushed. “You, mainly.” He looked down. “I think about you a lot. Especially when I’m upset. You make me happy.” He lifted his eyes; they were more guarded. “Sometimes I think about Quidditch, Hermione, Neville, Seamus, and Dean, your family, Hogwarts, something Sirius said or Hagrid did.” He sighed. “But most of the time, I think about you.”

“What do you think about when you think of me?”

Harry’s blush deepened. “You know…”

Ron laughed. “No, I’m pretty sure I don’t.” He could tell he was embarrassing Harry, but he was so cute that Ron didn’t care.

“Ugh!” Harry ran a hand through his hair, then laid the hand back on Ron’s shoulder. “It’s stupid.”

Ron traced the outline of Harry’s lips. “Nothing you could ever say would be stupid.” Harry smiled at that.

“Sometimes, it’s just your face. Sometimes, we’re playing Quidditch, or I think of some memory of us together. Other times, I think of other things…”

“Like…”

“Like what we’re doing now.” Ron was positive he had never seen Harry’s face so red.

“Not anything more?” Ron smirked.

“You’re making fun of me,” Harry said, pushing Ron playfully.

“Oh, I’m definitely not making fun of you. I’m relieved I’m not the only one who has thought of these things.”

“So…you have, too?”

Ron shot him an exasperated look. “Do you really have to ask? Whose lap are you sitting in?” He leaned forward and pressed a quick, firm kiss against his lips.

“I told you. Now, what were you thinking about?”

“Honestly?”

“No, wanker, I want you to lie to me.” Harry tugged Ron’s hair impatiently.

“I was thinking about how much happier you look. And about George, and Fred, actually. And about how much I love the rain.”

Harry smiled. “Cool.”

Harry shifted in his lap and Ron was reminded of the two hardening cocks between them. Something occurred to him, and he felt his face grow red.

“Now you’re blushing. We’re quite a pair. What is it?”

“I’m not sure you want to know.” Harry glared at Ron, so he continued. “Fine. Have you…you know…with anyone?”

“Sure.” Ron couldn’t stop his mouth from dropping open. “You know,” Harry continued, “I shagged so many people in between quests for Horcruxes and Voldemort trying to kill me.” Harry arched an eyebrow. “That was a stupid question.”

“No, it wasn’t. You might have. I mean, you and Ginny –“

Harry held up his hands. “Hold on. I really would rather not discuss your sister while straddling your lap. No, we never did.”

“Okay, good.” Ron felt better not having to discuss Ginny. “Me and Hermione never…”

“I know. One of you would have told me, I hope.”

“You know about me and Lavender.”

“Yep, and her terrible hands.” They laughed and Ron kissed Harry again. He felt elated.

“So, I was your first…”

“Yep. Pretty sad, huh?”

“I think it’s kinda awesome.” Ron pulled Harry towards him again and kissed him passionately, overtaken by the idea that Harry was his and his only. “I like the idea that I get to be your first, and you mine.”

“Wait,” Harry said, pulling back. “Are we talking about handjobs or something more.”

“Um,” Ron said, face blazing again. “I don’t know…”

“Do you want to go farther?”

“This is so awkward. Why are we such awkward losers?” He laughed nervously. “Why can’t we just fuck and think nothing about it.”

“Because we’re not like that?”

“Seamus does that.”

“Seamus would shag a goat if he could.” They both laughed, which eased the tension.

Ron then turned serious, running a hand through Harry’s disheveled hair and then curled his fingers around the base of Harry’s neck. “I don’t know where this is going, or what in the hell we are doing. I just know that you’re my best friend, and I love to see you smile, and we’ve been through hell the last few years, and I think that I love you.” Ron realized the moment the words crossed his lips there was no going back. He was waiting for Harry to tell him he was stupid, that he didn’t feel the same way or something. He wasn’t looking forward to walking back to the castle in the rain.

“I love you, too,” Harry said. “I think I always have. I realized it recently. I love you, Ron.”

“I didn’t expect you to say that,” Ron admitted. Harry laughed and hit him.

“Then why did you tell me? What did you think I was going to do?”

“I honestly just said it before I realized what I was doing. But it’s nice. I love you. I love you.”

“You’re a bloody idiot.” When Harry kissed Ron, Ron pulled back with an idea.

“The back seat is more comfortable.” Ron crawled over the seat, Harry following. “We need the radio,” Ron said as he and Harry got settled. The car turned the radio on to the rock station.

They started kissing again, and Ron pushed Harry flat against the seat. It took them a second to find the right footing so Ron wouldn’t fall into the floor. Involuntarily, Ron started rubbing himself against Harry, then realized Harry was mirroring his actions. Ron broke the kiss, breathless.

“Do you want to…”

“Lose my virginity in the backseat of the car?” Harry laughed.

“Another Muggle car thing?” Harry nodded. “I think these Muggles had the right idea when it came to cars.”

Quickly, they started undressing each other, tossing their clothes into the front seat. When they were both naked, they sat across from one another, cocks fully erect, embarrassment heavy between them.

“This shouldn’t be awkward,” Harry said.

“You’re right.”

“We’ve seen each other loads of times,” Harry explained.

“And we jacked each other off a few days ago.”

“Exactly.” Harry looked down at Ron’s erection. “I’ve just never seen you like that. We didn’t exactly get a good look the other day.”

Ron reached forward and touched Harry’s cock. It jumped beneath his fingertips, and he wrapped his fingers around it, fist sliding lightly. Harry’s eyes closed for a moment, then he sprung towards Ron, knocking him back onto the seat. Their cocks brushed against each other, and Ron thought he was going to come right then. He slipped his hand between their bodies and grabbed both their cocks in his grasp, squeezing and rubbing them together.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed. “We’re really going to do this.”

“We’re really going to do this,” Ron repeated.

“But we don’t have any lube.”

“Wait,” Ron said. With his free hand, he blindly reached beside him and grabbed his wand. He pointed it at Harry’s hand and muttered a spell, coating Harry’s hand. “Fred taught me that spell. I think he’d want us to use it.”

“Thank you, Fred,” Harry said, hooking Ron’s leg over his shoulder, the other pressed against the seat, foot against the back windscreen. Harry shyly touched Ron’s opening, experimenting and exploring. Ron’s eyes rolled back in his head as Harry brushed his finger across a few times, then poked a tentative finger inside.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Ron said.

Harry removed his finger. “Shit, did I hurt you?”

“Hell no. Put it back in.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said with a smile, this time sliding his finger in with more confidence. His entire finger inside of Ron, he slid it out and back in again, adopting a slow rhythm.

“More, please,” Ron begged, feeling no shame as he pressed his ass against Harry’s hand. Harry added a second finger, and Ron inhaled sharply as he felt the sting. Harry was slow, sliding in and out, twisting them, stretching Ron as best as he could. Ron could have stayed like this, his cock jerking in his hand beside Harry’s. He had forgotten to do anything with them as Harry’s finger worked inside him. “Feels so good,” Ron murmured.

“You’re really fucking hot like this,” Harry said. Slowly, he started to add another finger. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Ron answered. It was slightly uncomfortable and hurt a bit, but it felt so good that he wasn’t sure he cared. A third finger inside, Ron felt like he was going to come before they got to the actual sex. Then it all was gone and he felt empty and need Harry right then.

“A little help?” Ron looked at Harry through heavy-lidded eyes. Harry was pointing to his cock, and Ron picked up his wand again and muttered the spell. “Are you ready?”

“God, yes.”

“Good, I want you so bad.” Harry positioned himself, the tip of his cock brushing against Ron’s entrance. Ron pushed against Harry’s cock, and that was all the impetus Harry needed; slowly, he pushed in, Ron gasping in pain and discomfort. “Sorry! Shit, I’ll stop.”

“No!” Ron said. He gripped Harry’s forearm. “I’m…adjusting.” He laughed dryly, then took a deep breath. “Okay.” Even slower, Harry pushed forward, stopping every second or so to give Ron time. Finally, Harry was completely inside Ron, and they paused there. Ron wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, tugging him down into a kiss. Harry braced himself on the seat beside Ron’s head, the other hand dancing across Ron’s side.

A few moments later, Harry started thrusting, an unhurried tempo. After Ron got comfortable with the alien feeling inside of him, he realized that Harry was moving entirely too slow. “Faster,” he whispered, and Harry enthusiastically complied. Gripping Ron’s hip with his free hand, he slammed into him repeatedly, Ron’s pleasure building with each thrust of Harry’s cock inside him. Ron grabbed his face and kissed him again, his tongue seeking Harry, needing every bit of contact he could get. Harry let go of Ron’s hip and grabbed his cock, pumping the shaft in an echo of each thrust. Ron threw his head back to the seat and came, spilling between their bodies. As Ron enjoyed aftershocks of pleasure, Harry dug his fingers into Ron’s hip, roughly thrusting. Ron contracted himself around Harry, drawing him in even deeper, and Harry shuddered and came with a few more erratic jerks. Finished, Harry dropped on top of Ron. Ron wrapped an arm around his back, drawing lazy circles on his damp back. He could feel Harry twitch, his softening cock still warm inside him. He smiled and felt happy.

Harry pulled out, then kissed Ron, lazy wet kisses. They sat up and surveyed the mess they made. Harry reached over the seat and grabbed one of their undershirts so they could clean themselves up a bit.

“It’s still pouring,” Harry said, tossing the soiled shirt over the seat.

“Hmm,” Ron said, pulling Harry close again. He kissed him. “That wasn’t weird, was it?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Good,” he smiled against his mouth.

Harry leaned over the seat, and Ron took the moment to admire the view of his naked ass. He tossed a blanket at Ron’s head, then sat back down.

“Where did this come from?” he asked.

“I brought it,” Harry explained. “I was afraid we’d get too cold in the car today.” He took a pile of their clothes, made a makeshift pillow, then laid back against the door. “Figured we could lay here and wait out the rain.”

“Sounds perfect,” Ron said, fitting himself against Harry’s naked body. Harry situated the blanket over them, then wrapped his arms around Ron. Ron was lulled to sleep by the sound of Harry’s heart beating underneath his ear.

*

Harry and Ron were at the pub with Neville, Seamus, and Dean, a different pub than the last time.

“I have a date,” Neville announced.

“What?” Seamus yelled. “This is so not fair. Neville is getting play, and I’m not.”

“I didn’t say I was getting play. I said I had a date.”

Seamus looked blankly at Neville. “It’s the same thing.”

Neville shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Congrats, Neville,” Harry said. “Who is it?”

“Melinda Bobbin.”

“Who?” Seamus asked.

“Her dad owns all the apothecaries, right?” Ron asked.

“Yeah. We’ve been working in the greenhouse together. She’s interested in Potions, but we’ve been talking about ways to mix the two. She came up with this great idea to –“ He looked around at the others, then blushed. “You don’t care.”

“We care that you got a date,” Dean said.

“But not about the rest,” Seamus finished.

“Congrats, Neville,” Harry said, lifting his beer. “To Neville and Melinda.”

“Cheers!”

“Look, it’s Harry Potter!”

Ron almost choked on his beer and grabbed Harry’s hand under the table. Two older couples came up to the table.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Harry Potter,” a short witch with curly brown hair said.

“Damn near miracle you’re here in front of us,” her short wizard date said.

“Can’t imagine what it must have been like in your shoes,” the other, taller wizard said. “Coming face to face with You-Know-Who multiple times.”

“War times are rough,” the other wizard said. “We remember his first appearance, the first time you defeated him, when you were just a baby. Terrible times.” He shook his head.

“Did all you boys fight?” the short witch asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Neville answered.

The witch shook her head and looked sad. “It’s a travesty that this war was fought by so many children. You boys are so young.”

Ron squeezed Harry’s hand, unsure what Harry was going to do if they kept talking.

“What was it like?” the other witch, who had been silent up until now, asked.

“Horrible,” Harry said, voice a bit unsteady. Ron was afraid he was going to squeeze Harry’s hand completely off. “You should be thankful that you were lucky enough to miss it.”

“You’ve done the wizarding world proud, boys,” the tall wizard said.

“Don’t call them boys. They’re men. Anyone who fought in a war is a man,” the short man said.

“You-know-who would still be terrorizing the world if it wasn’t for you men.”

“Thank you,” Harry croaked out. “But could you do me a favor?”

Ron gulped. He looked at Seamus, Neville, and Dean and saw the same concern mirrored on their faces. He was braced for whatever was coming.

“Call him Voldemort. Don’t keep giving him power by being afraid of his name.”

They all nodded. “Voldemort,” they murmured softly.

“A real honor, men,” the tall wizard said, extending his hand and shaking Harry’s, then the other four. They said their goodbyes and left the table.

Ron breathed an audible sigh of relief. “You didn’t curse at them.”

“Or yell at them,” Neville said.

“Or try to fight them,” Seamus said, disappointed. “I still want to see a bar fight.”

Harry smiled. Ron could feel him shaking slightly, but was proud of him nonetheless.

“Well,” Seamus said, “I guess we’re men then.”

“Guess so. Wizard dude said so,” Dean said.

Ron lifted his glass. “To being men.” They all lifted their glasses.

“Men!” they toasted, then started laughing.

*

“I’m going to miss her,” Harry said, running his hand along the dashboard.

“This was your idea.”

“I know. It’s just time to leave the car.” He looked lovingly at the car, then picked up the piece of parchment and quill. “What should we say?”

“Um…” Ron paused to think. “Write this: If you are reading this, that means you have ventured out into the Forbidden Forest alone. Watch out for centaurs, unicorns, giant boy-eating spiders, and evil overlords.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Write it!”

“Fine!” Harry wrote what Ron dictated. “Okay, now this,” Harry read as he wrote, “This is the Flying Ford Anglia, which used to belong to Arthur Weasley, father to the fallen war hero Fred Weasley, along with his other hero children, Charlie, Bill, Percy, George, Ron, and Ginny.”

Harry looked at Ron for approval, who nodded. “Fred would like that. So would Dad. Now write this: The car was then adopted by Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, former Hogwarts students. We, Harry and Ron, leave you the car, along with some advice.”

“What advice should we leave?” Harry asked, scribbling furiously.

“They won’t have any Voldemort to deal with, or Horcruxes.”

“Thankfully.” Harry scratched his chin with the quill feather thoughtfully. “Ooh. Number one. Play Quidditch. You will thank us.”

“Number two. Pay attention to your studies, or so our best friend Hermione Granger tells us.”

“And read _Hogwarts: A History_.”

“Ooh, good one.”

Harry said suddenly, “Number three. Befriend Hagrid.”

“Number four. The Shrieking Shack isn’t really haunted, but don’t tell anyone. And the one-eyed witch statue leads to Honeydukes. Tap on the hump and speak the word _Dissendium_.”

“Number five. Never miss the train to Hogwarts. Or mess with the Whomping Willow. Or a dementor. Or a house elf. Or a hippogriff. Or –“

“Harry, you really can’t list everything not to mess with. We’re not writing a book.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Number six. Love potions are dangerous – don’t even try them.”

“Number seven. Tell Moaning Myrtle Harry and Ron say hi.”

“Number eight. Always do what you think is right, even if it’s against the rules.”

“Number nine. Find your friends and hang on to them, no matter how weird they are (for example: Luna Lovegood).”

“Number ten. Don’t cast spells with broken wands.”

“Number eleven. Gryffindor is the best house, though the rest are cool. Even Slytherin (sometimes).”

“Number twelve. Don’t take Divination. Just saying.”

“This is getting long.”

“Who cares? It’s our advice sheet.”

“Number thirteen. Do everything you think you should – eat, sleep, play Quidditch, sneak out, stay up too late, break into the restricted section, ask the girl (or boy) you like out, fall in love, visit Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, play wizard’s chess, and enjoy the fact that you don’t have to deal with Voldemort, Chamber of Secrets, Dementors, Umbridge, Death Eaters, and Rita Skeeter,” Harry wrote.

“We hope you enjoy the car as much as we did,” Ron said.

“And we hope you enjoy your years at Hogwarts as much as we did,” Harry wrote. “If you can find best friends like Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, or other friends like Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, or Luna Lovegood, you are as lucky as we are. Because they rock.” Harry looked at Ron. “What else?”

“I think that’s enough. It’s pretty thorough and maudlin enough, I think.”

“Shut up. I wanted to get a bit sentimental.”

“It’s okay.” Ron grabbed the quill and parchment. He began writing, “Forgive the cheesiness of Harry Potter. Being the Boy Who Lived will do that to you. Good luck, and don’t break the car or I’ll come back and break your legs. Sincerely, Ron Weasley.”

Harry took the stuff back. “It’s not cheesy, it’s heartfelt, which Ron Weasley knows nothing about. Good luck, and here’s to many years free of danger and war, but filled with adventure. Sincerely, Harry Potter.”

They reread the parchment and nodded.

“It’s good,” Harry said. He folded it up and put it in the glove compartment.

“Now car,” Ron said. The car honked in response. “If a few students come to you, be nice, okay?” The car honked. “And if they are extra special, like us, open up the glove compartment and show them the advice, okay?” The car opened the compartment to show he understood, and Harry patted the dashboard.

They sat on the front seat, looking out into the clearing. “I’m gonna miss this, too,” Ron said.

Harry grabbed Ron’s hand and laced their fingers together. They listened to the radio, not speaking for a long while. Ron wasn’t sure what was going to happen. He and Harry were together now, but he wasn’t sure how long it would last. He loved Harry, but he knew that eventually they would have to really grow up instead of spending all their time in a flying car shagging each other. Maybe they would be together forever, maybe one day they’d marry Hermione and Ginny and have kids of their own who would find their way to the car. Regardless of what happened, Ron knew he’d never feel any different about Harry. He would always love him, and they’d always be best friends. They’d fought too many demons for any of that to change.

-fin


End file.
